


Fischler vs. Tracy

by Gumnut



Series: Sleeping Wounded [2]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Brothers, Courtroom Drama, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 16:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17348618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumnut/pseuds/Gumnut
Summary: Scott Tracy punched Langstrom Fischler. Scott thought he deserved it, but apparently Fischler didn't agree, and he filed assault charges. Sequel to 'Sleeping Wounded'. Spoilers up to end S2.





	Fischler vs. Tracy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chidoriXblossom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chidoriXblossom/gifts).



> Title: Fischler vs. Tracy  
> Sequel to ‘Sleeping Wounded’  
> Author: Gumnut  
> 2 – 8 Jan 2019  
> Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS  
> Rating: Teen  
> Summary: Scott Tracy punched Langstrom Fischler. Scott thought he deserved it, but apparently Fischler didn’t agree, and he filed assault charges.  
> Word count: 10,670  
> Spoilers & warnings: Possible spoilers up to end S2. Virgil is not healthy for most of this.  
> Timeline: Sequel to ‘Sleeping Wounded’.  
> Author’s note: This was supposed to be a short fic. It didn’t stay that way. In fact, the entire inspirational scene for the whole thing didn’t actually end up happening. It kinda did what it felt like and ended up huge. It has its moments, and I hope you enjoy them. Many thanks to @i-am-chidorixblossom for the initial prompt that sprouted all this and for her wonderful help when I nearly went crazy staring at this. And also to @scribbles97 for the reality check at crazy o’clock. You guys are wonderful and I couldn’t do this without you.  
> Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

The press were having a field day.

Dressed head to toe in a sleek grey suit, blue tie and his hair so soaked in product, the wind didn’t have a chance, Scott was the point of an arrowhead of Tracys. Virgil walked on his right, John on his left, and Gordon and Alan behind them respectively.

None of them had a smile on their faces, and all were similarly dressed, broad shoulders and expensive fabrics. One of the rare occasions that shouted the power they wielded and the money they owned.

Kayo strode ahead of them, similarly attired, but that didn’t stop her from asserting her security muscle as needed to move the press out of their path.

Unfortunately, they were unable to move very fast as one, as Virgil was still hampered by his injuries. It was tactical on their lawyers’ part. Show the judge exactly what injuries Fischler had been responsible for. Scott still sported his wrist brace, but had otherwise recovered. Virgil’s face still bore the yellows and greens of bruising, the damage to his forehead blatant and painful to look at, and, of course, his arm was still in a cast, but it was his ribs that were slowing them down. Movement still hurt and this was going to be a tiring day for his brother.

Not to mention having his injuries plastered all over the world’s holoprojectors.

It set Scott’s blood boiling.

“Scott Tracy! Do you have a response to Langstrom Fischler’s accusations that International Rescue are out to ruin him?” Holocams buzzed around like bees as they reached the entrance to Wellington’s District Court, and the press moved in on them.

Scott instinctively stepped in front of Virgil and out the corner of his eye he saw Gordon step up to his brother’s side.

“No comment.”

Scott was well known to the world’s media as a very private individual. The only reporter who had ever managed a decent interview was Kat Cavanaugh, and popular opinion believed she had had to break both her legs to get it.

Secretly he enjoyed the mystique that surrounded his public figure. It gave him a modicum of power and respect, and considering some of the people he had to interact with out in the field, he needed all the respect he could muster.

Kayo made her presence known and a path opened before them. Scott nudged Virgil behind him and led his brothers through the gauntlet. He registered John dropping to the back of the line, bracketing the youngest between them.

Virgil muttered something incomprehensible to himself.

And as one they entered the building.

-o-o-o-

The holographic files were beginning to blur. Scott shunted one across the desk and binned it.

Two seconds later, he realised that it was the most important report on his desk, and hurriedly dug it out again.

God, he was tired. With the trial, the lawyers, and the attack, all on top of day to day International Rescue there was nothing left.

Damn Fischler to hell.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Time for bed.”

He didn’t even bother to look up at his brother. “No can do. Need to file these for the lawyers.”

A brown gaze lasered across the desktop. “Anything I can do?”

“No, and besides...” His brain finally caught up. “You should be resting.” The day had been hard and Virgil had suffered for it. He looked up to find his brother still pale. “Go to bed.”

“You first.”

“Can’t.”

“Okay.” And the hand vanished. Scott rubbed his eyes.

But was not surprised to hear the opening strains of one of Virgil’s piano compositions dance across the air from behind him.

“Virgil.” The man was attempting to play with a broken arm, for crying out loud.

“What?”

Scott winced as a key was missed. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know it was accompanied by a grimace.

“What are you doing?”

“Practising.”

Another key stumbled and this time it was Scott who grimaced. He turned to face his brother. The man was hunched over the keys, stubbornly fingering out the tune despite the fact his cast prevented him from even the mildest of finger stretches.

An off key twanged through the air once again.

“Virgil.”

“Yes, Scott?”

“Go to bed.”

“You first.” And that was a solid wince from his stubborn brother.

Scott sighed and stood up. “Fine. Move your ass.”

The music continued for just a moment before Virgil awkwardly riffed it to a close and shut the lid. Hugging his broken arm to his belly, he shuffled sideways off the piano stool and stood with a painful grunt.

“You are such an idiot.”

Tired brown eyes smirked at him. “Pot meet kettle.” He waved Scott towards the elevator. “Bedtime.”

Scott glared at him for a moment before turning towards the exit. Perhaps he could get his brother to bed and return later.

“And don’t even think about coming back in here before five am. I’ve asked Eos to alert me of your whereabouts should you stray.”

“What?”

“It’s past midnight. Bed.”

“Yes, Mom.” He rolled his eyes, but made his way to the elevator.

Virgil shuffled slowly after him.

-o-o-o-

They almost weren’t allowed into the court.

The moment Scott stepped between the detectors, alarms started screeching. Several guards jumped out of the woodwork and Scott froze, his hands up and open.

Oh, the suits weren’t normal suits. Brains had gotten his hands on them, just like he did with all their clothing. Fortunately for Scott the circuitry was finely woven into the material, virtually invisible and although the alarms complained, eventually they had to let him through or strip him naked.

Considering the case under scrutiny and the reputation of the man involved, they only stripped him of two layers of clothing and wanding him within an inch of his life before capitulating.

Then Virgil set off the alarms, and they had to go through the process all over again.

Except Virgil was injured.

The first wince set Scott on edge, by the third he was ready to punch someone.

“For crying out loud, we aren’t carrying any weaponry.”

“It is procedure, sir.”

Virgil was biting his lip as he shouldered off his jacket. They wouldn’t find anything more on Virgil than they had found on Scott, this was ridiculous.

Not to mention the press filming the entire procedure from the entrance.

Turning away he thumbed the communicator in his collar. “Eos, could you please put me in contact with Colonel Casey.”

“Yes, Scott. Putting you through now.”

Five minutes later, they resumed their stride towards the courtroom to the sound of various apologies.

Scott rested his hand gently on Virgil’s shoulder.

-o-o-o-

Virgil marched him to his bedroom and glared at him until he changed his clothes and slipped into bed.

Somehow this was all backwards.

“Shut up and go to sleep.” His brother stood just inside Scott’s bedroom door, arms wrapped around his chest, putting all his energy into his eyebrows, deploying his frown like a weapon.

Scott threw himself into bed just to shut him up. “Fine. I’m in bed, now will you go to bed?”

“Lights out.”

Scott thumbed the switch, the room falling into darkness, the starlight from the windows only slowly appearing as his eyes adjusted.

Soft. “Goodnight, Scott.”

“Goodnight, Virgil.”

A slither of hallway light and his brother was gone. Scott frowned.

What the hell was that all about?

-o-o-o-

Scott took his seat in the defendant’s position and, to his surprise, Virgil sat next to him.

“What are you doing here?”

Virgil grunted as he got as comfortable as he could in the chair. “If you think you’re going through this by yourself, dream on.” His brother straightened up and stared towards where the judge would eventually appear. “John has Gordon and Alan. I have you.”

Scott blinked and twisted in his chair. Directly behind were his three remaining brothers, lined up in the public gallery, Kayo beside them. Gordon grinned at him.

“Where is he? I know he will be here.” The whiny voice and in waltzed Fischler, a dramatic bandage across his nose. He was followed by an elegantly dressed woman, a dark-haired man with a distracted expression, and a flock of lawyers. Fischler’s half aware eyes roamed over the courtroom until they landed on Scott. They frowned and then skipped to his right and narrowed on Virgil.

Scott frowned. He couldn’t possibly...

“There he is! That’s the guy who flies the green thing. He’s the one who shot down your collectors, Perce.” The man standing next to Fischler latched his eyes onto Virgil as well. Scott had the urge to step in front of his brother yet again. Perce’s lips thinned.

Both men suddenly had their arms grabbed by the woman as their lawyers shuffled past. She dragged the both of them into the public gallery, muttering something Scott couldn’t hear. They planted themselves at the far end of the seating well away from anyone sporting the name ‘Tracy’. Kayo eyed them with a death glare.

Virgil, unable to twist around, didn’t pay them any attention. Scott forced himself to turn around and face the front.

They all stood as the judge walked in.

Scott sighed as he stuck out his arm to help his brother to his feet.

This was going to be a long day.

-o-o-o-

He was thrown out of a deep sleep by the sound of shattering glass.

The clock claimed it was just past three in the morning. Scott blinked the fog out of his brain and hurried out of bed.

The hallway outside his room was only lit by moonlight, but it was enough light for his eyes to sketch out a hunched figure leaning against the wall. A flick of the light switch revealed Virgil huddled almost in two, his face screwed up in pain. Blue glass, the remains of one of Grandma’s vases that had been sitting on the sideboard, was scattered all over the floor.

“Virgil?” The only answer was a muffled groan. Scott grabbed his slippers, threw them on, and stepped lightly over the glass. Cautiously he reached out and touched his brother’s shoulder. “Virgil?”

The man slowly unfolded, a gasping breath pushed out between his teeth. “Uh, s-sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” He leant his back against the wall, moving ever so slowly and hesitant. He was dressed only in his pyjama bottoms, leaving the strapping of his ribs and the green and yellow fading bruises all over his torso available to see. “Juss needed s’m medication.” He sighed and began slipping down the wall.

Scott caught him as gently as he could, but Virgil still cried out as he took his weight.

His head dropped onto Scott’s shoulder. Panting, and then an exhausted, “Ow.”

“C’mon. Let’s get you horizontal.”

It wasn’t without protest from his idiot brother, but eventually Scott managed to drag him into his own rooms, choosing the shorter distance and higher likelihood of being able to keep an eye on the man. Virgil obviously hadn’t been taking his pain medication correctly and this was the result.

By the time Scott manhandled the larger man into his bed, Virgil was as white as the bed sheets.

Just in case, Scott checked him over, but his vitals only told him the same story his eyes did. “God, you’re an idiot.”

“Had no choice.”

“That is debatable.” Scott pressed his lips together. “I’ll get your medication. Stay put.” His fingers brushed across the back of his brother’s hand.

He came back quickly, but not with the medication Virgil had expected. “Aww, c’mon, S-Scott. You know what that does to me.”

“You need rest. And you’re not going to get it while you are in pain. This will send you to sleep.”

“It will send me stupid.”

“You can’t get much more stupid than you are now. Why the hell did you skip your meds?”

“Didn’t.”

“Well, you’re obviously not suffering from pain relief. What the hell did you do?”

“Minimum dose.”

“Why?”

“Couldn’t be dopey.”

Scott’s lips thinned yet again. He fought off yet another urge to bash Fischler’s face in. Instead he held up the hypodermic. “Well, now you get to make up for it.”

-o-o-o-

Scott Tracy was guilty. He knew he was. It was on the advice of his lawyers that he pleaded the opposite. It was a matter of sentencing. If he was simply guilty, he could go to jail. That was something to be avoided at all costs. International Rescue could operate without him, but the scandal would be seriously damaging. His lawyer had frowned at him so hard, Scott was surprised he hadn’t blown a blood vessel. There was more than just Scott’s record on the line. That single moment of release, of self-imposed justice as his fist hit Fischler’s face, had put International Rescue in the spotlight and not in a good way.

So, a plea of not guilty was entered and a trial forced. The aim to expose Fischler for what he was and reduce the sentencing for Scott. Whether or not it would work remained to be seen.

By the time Fischler had finished his rambling accusation on the stand, Scott was quite ready to change his plea to guilty, just to shut him up. Either that or take another swing at him. When the man started raving about how Virgil had shot down his solar collectors yet again, a large hand landed softly on his arm and squeezed.

Fortunately, the judge drew his tirade to a halt and their defence had the opportunity to cross examine and open the case up to the events leading up the assault.

“Mr Fischler, what was the purpose of your solar collectors?” Their lawyer, Jack Dunning, was a dumpy little man, plump and somewhat balding, but it was all part of his image.

“What do you think? Are you stupid? They collect solar energy. They are called solar collectors after all.”

Dunning ignored the insult. “Then why were the devices mobbing aircraft?”

“There was a slight hitch in their collaborative programming.”

“That slight hitch in their program disabled at least two aircraft.”

“A bit of an accident, that. No one was injured.”

“Much in thanks to International Rescue, I believe.”

“International Rescue was not invited to the testing! They took it upon themselves to turn up and start destroying all my hard work. That man there!” And yes, he stood up and pointed a bony finger at Virgil. “That man took it upon himself to shoot every single collector out of the sky.”

Dunning looked bored. “Have you considered why he would do such a thing?”

“How would I know what he was thinking? There were millions of dollars at stake and he blew it all out of the sky. This could seriously damage Fischler Industries, and it is not the first time he and International Rescue have interfered. Did you know they blew up my comet? I had plans for that, too, you know.”

Scott just stared. Did the man have anything between his ears? The hand on his arm tightened its grip.

Dunning turned to the judge. “Judge, to expedite this trial I would like to request special dispensation to call an extra witness to the stand.”

The judge looked tired. “Who and why?”

“I would like to call Virgil Tracy, the pilot of Thunderbird Two, one of the planes disabled by Mr Fischler’s collectors.”

“This is an assault case, Mr Dunning. We have yet to hear from the assailant. This is not the place to discuss why these experimental devices were shot down.”

“Sir, I believe this is important evidence that will reveal the perspective and the possible reasoning behind the alleged attack.”

The judge had intelligent eyes and Scott found himself holding his breath, both wanting a positive answer and a firm denial. He didn’t want his brother up there under such scrutiny, especially in his condition and with the press foaming at the mouth in the media gallery, but at the same time, it was likely Virgil’s testimony could sway the judge.

Those eyes drifted to Fischler who was still sitting in the witness box with his arms crossed across his chest looking more like a pouting child than a professional scientist.

Scott could see the moment the decision was made. “Permission granted. Mr Fischler, you are dismissed.”

“What?”

“Please step down from the witness box, Mr Fischler.”

“Very well. The sooner this is over the better. My time is expensive, you know.” The man stood and, muttering, stalked back to his seat.

“The court calls Virgil Tracy to the stand.”

-o-o-o-

Scott took a moment to clean up the mess of glass in the corridor after administering Virgil’s medication and give his brother a chance to drop off to sleep without a witness.

He knew why Virgil had done it. He had suspected it during the day, but hadn’t had the chance to corner him and, in part, understood the necessity. But it still hurt to see his brother hurting.

His ribs were healing, but they were tender and movement remained the biggest challenge. The strain of the day and the emotional pressure on taxed resources couldn’t have helped.

All because Scott had let sense be overtaken by emotion.

He sighed as he poured glass into the rubbish.

It wasn’t the first time Virgil had had to pay for his rashness either.

Another sigh and he resisted the urge to kick the trash can.

When he returned to his room, entering quietly, Virgil was exactly where he had left him, hunched under the covers, forehead wrinkled with pain.

He crept around the bed, and gently sat down on the other side.

“I hate you.” It was quiet, muffled and slurred a little.

Scott shucked off his slippers and climbed on top of the covers, laying down beside his brother. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“These damn drugs suck.”

“Yes, Virgil.”

“Everything is wonky.”

“Yes, Virgil.”

“Your bed covers smell like you.”

“Yes, Virgil.”

“You smell like a pineapple.”

“A pineapple?”

“Yes, Scott.”

“Go to sleep, Virgil.”

“Can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Hurts.”

Scott sighed, wondering if there were any studies that linked medication sensitivity with age regression.

“Give the medication time to do its job.”

“Don’t want medication. Need to be there for you.”

“You were there, Virg. It is over now. You can sleep.”

“Don’t want to sleep.”

“Why?”

“Need to be there for you.”

“You need to sleep.”

“Sleep means dreams.”

Scott’s eyes shot open and he involuntarily turned towards his brother. “What sort of dreams?”

Virgil didn’t answer.

“Virgil? What kind of dreams?”

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

Scott bit his lip. Technically this could be considered as taking advantage of Virgil’s drugged state. “Virgil?”

“Gotta be there for you.”

“You are.”

“Good.” Virgil shifted slightly and groaned through his teeth. “Can’t lose you.”

“You didn’t. I’m here.”

But the medication had taken hold properly, his brother’s voice dropping to little more than a chanted whisper. “Can’t lose you. Can’t.”

“Virgil-”

“Would rather die.”

-o-o-o-

“Mr Tracy, could you please tell us of the events that led to your arrival at the scene of the rescue.”

Virgil shifted in his seat, obviously not as comfortable as he could be, but his back was straight and he met the lawyer’s eye.

“Yes, sir. A distress call was received from Air Terranean Flight 4586 over Brazil en route to Los Angeles. They reported unidentified objects hounding their flight path. One had disabled an engine and the plane was losing height. They feared another of the objects would damage the plane further.” A pause as his brother swallowed. “As per our protocol for such an incident, both Thunderbirds One and Two were deployed. I pilot Two, while my brother Scott, pilots One. When we arrived-“

The lawyer held up a hand. “Mr Tracy, you said as per protocol. What is the protocol in this situation? Why were both ships needed?”

Virgil’s eyes skipped to Scott for a split second. None of them liked talking about operational procedures in public. “In air rescues involving a plane that has the potential to crash, if possible, at least two craft attend to maximise the chances of saving it. There have been previous situations that have proven this to be the case.”

“But why are two Thunderbirds needed?”

“One craft may need to intercept the cause of the plane’s distress to enable the other to save lives. In this case, Fischler’s devices were the cause, and I am very grateful we did deploy both craft, despite the result.”

“So, one Thunderbird is needed to defend the other?”

“Not always, but yes, it has happened before.” Again, Virgil’s eyes flickered to Scott’s. “Also, air rescue is difficult on the best of occasions. It helps to have back up.”

“What happened on this occasion?”

“When Thunderbird One arrived on the scene AT 4586 had been completely disabled and was on a glide trajectory to crash. TB1 immediately provided flight support.”

He had hit the danger zone at high speed, the yells of the falling plane becoming more and more frantic. Scott had immediately deployed his grapple, securing it to the ship’s fuselage and lifting the craft into a more stable glide, TB1’s thrusters replacing those the plane had lost.

It was at that point John had alerted him to incoming projectiles, and he had had to disengage momentarily to avoid the mob of experimental collectors attracted to his thrusters. It had taken all his skill to dive and dodge the hoard.

“When I arrived on the scene, Thunderbird One was caught between providing assistance to the passenger plane and dodging a mob of small robotic projectiles.”

“Did you know what the projectiles were?”

“By this time, Thunderbird Five had located the cause and identified Fischler.”

“Did his identification have any effect on your reaction to the situation?”

Virgil paused. “Mr Dunning, International Rescue has a long history with Fischler. The man has endangered so many lives, yet he is somehow still operating. He mentioned a comet earlier? That comet had the potential to wipe out the majority of life on Earth, and it did almost do exactly that. So, no, I can’t say it didn’t affect my reaction to the situation.”

There was muttering from the back of the room, but a stern glare from the judge silenced it.

“What did you do upon arrival?”

“Protocol dictated that Thunderbird Two should have taken the weight of the aircraft, reducing Thunderbird One to support, however the moment I entered detection range, the collectors targeted Two’s systems, abandoning One. Scott immediately resumed the rescue and I found myself in some difficulty.” His brother stopped talking a moment and shifted in his seat, the bruises on his face standing out stark against his pale skin.

“Are you okay, Mr Tracy?”

“Fine.” It was short and sharp and obviously a lie. Apparently, Virgil’s oath of truth didn’t extend to his health.

No one in the court commented.

“Why did the collectors target Thunderbird Two?”

“We are unsure.” Brains suspected it was the difference in fuel mix, but had been unable to confirm it as yet.

“What did they do?”

“They were attracted to her thrusters. I had some difficulty avoiding them.”

“Thunderbird One managed.”

“Thunderbird One is not Thunderbird Two.” It was said quite vehemently and Scott couldn’t help but smile just a little. Don’t dis his brother’s ‘bird. But, yes, in this case, TB2 had been at a greater disadvantage. The ship was built for strength, not manoeuvrability, and it had been a major problem. It had only been Virgil’s masterful flying that had prevented Thunderbird Two from being taken down immediately.

“What did you do next?”

“Leaving the danger zone was not an option. That would have left One and the failing plane vulnerable to attack once again. The only options left were to continue to provide the distraction or to remove the threat.” Virgil looked over at Fischler. “And as Fischler has mentioned on several occasions, I chose to remove the threat.”

Scott had to admit, it had been awesome to witness. Two’s laser cutter was not designed as a weapon, but his brother had played it like he played his piano. While Scott concentrated on pulling the ailing plane out of the sky and lowering it to the nearest airfield, Two had darted off into the distance over the sea of trees, her red laser striking out with precision, chunks of burnt and sliced up collector falling from the sky like rain.

“That was millions of dollars of technology you destroyed!” Fischler was standing up in the public gallery shaking his fist at Virgil.

“Mr Fischler, you will sit down and be quiet or you will be charged with contempt.” The judge’s voice cut across the courtroom like a knife.

Fischler looked to say more, but a female hand reached up from behind him and shoved him back down into his seat.

Virgil straightened in his chair and flinched. “Lives were at stake. Cost was irrelevant.”

“What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t destroyed the collectors?”

His brother turned his attention directly to their lawyer. “They would have taken out my ‘bird, my brother’s ‘bird and then moved onto whatever aircraft they could have found. People would have died.”

“So you made the decision to save lives?”

“That is what we do.”

“But you weren’t entirely successful in destroying them all.”

Virgil’s shoulders dropped. “No, one managed to reach Two’s starboard rear thruster and exploded. The thruster was damaged, taking a good percentage of flight control with it.”

“You found yourself in danger of crashing?”

His brother looked up. “Both rear thrusters and VTOL were disabled. Yes, we were going down.”

Virgil had sworn a blue streak across comms. Scott, still caught up in rescuing the airliner had been unable to respond. He had watched as his brother’s ‘bird began her plummet to Earth.

A swallow, another shift in his seat and Virgil’s face paled even further.

“Mr Tracy, if you are unwell, the trial can be postponed.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You did just survive a plane crash.”

“I’m fine.” It was growled. Stubborn bastard. Scott raised his hand to draw the attention of Dunning, but his brother’s eyes swung around and pinned him to his seat.

Scott lowered his hand.

“I-I did everything I could to prevent my ‘bird from going down, but the explosion had taken out most of her systems. Scott flew over to assist. He took the controls - “

“Your brother boarded a crashing plane.”

Virgil faltered. “Uh, yes, I-I asked him, too.”

“What of the airliner?”

“Thunderbird Five took control of Thunderbird One.”

“Why didn’t he take control of Two?”

“Auto-relay systems were shorted. I was on manual only.”

“So, Scott boarded your plane at the risk of his own life?”

Virgil’s mouth was open, nothing was coming out.

“Mr Tracy?”

A cleared throat. “Yes, I asked him to risk his life.”

“Scott!” It was a hissed whisper from behind. John. “Sit down!” And yes, he was halfway to his feet. His butt hit the cushion and shook his teeth.

“Mr Tracy, it is the nature of your work that your lives may be risked at any time, is it not?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“How many times have they been risked because of idiocy?”

“Objection!” The other lawyer bounced to his feet.

The judge eyed the man a moment before sighing. “Sustained. Please, Mr Dunning, restrict yourself to the specified events.”

“Very well.” He turned back to Virgil. “Scott boarded Thunderbird Two...”

His brother blinked and straightened again. “Yes, he was able to take control of the flight while I attempted to repair ship systems to halt our descent.”

“You were not successful?”

“Unfortunately, no, though I did manage to mitigate damages by restoring two of her VTOL thrusters. They slowed us enough to stabilise the landing somewhat.”

“But there were still injuries?”

“Thunderbird Two is out of commission for the foreseeable future, Scott sustained a major concussion, and I, well...” He shrugged and winced. “...have seen better days.”

“In fact, you have a fractured skull, six broken ribs and a broken arm, do you not?”

“And assorted bruises, yes.” Virgil glared at the man, not a fan of having his vulnerabilities paraded. Scott rolled his eyes.

“All because of Fischler.”

“Objection! My client is not on trial here!”

Dunning turned around and glared. “I beg to differ. These men risk their lives to save others on a daily basis and your client continues to endanger more and more lives. This is a proven fact.”

“Nothing has been proven...”

“The comet that nearly collided with not only a space station but the planet as well was proof enough. Did you know that three of these brothers, including Virgil sitting right here, nearly died in that incident, too?”

“That is not relevant-“

“I never asked them to interfere!” And Fischler was on his feet again.

A gavel hit wood hard. “Gentlemen!”

The sudden silence in the room was only broken by a mutter from Fischler as he was once again dragged back onto his seat by the woman behind him.

“Mr Dunning, I repeat, please restrict your comments to the current incident.” The judge’s glare targeted the back of the room. “Mr Fischler, keep quiet or you will be expelled.”

Scott only had eyes for his brother. Virgil was literally sagging in his seat. Apparently, the judge had noticed. “Mr Tracy, thank you for your testimony. We will take a fifteen-minute recess. Please take a moment to rest. There is a room down the hall.” The judge waved a court officer over.

Scott was on his feet without thinking, his own court officer trailing him. “Virgil!”

Brown eyes caught his, but the hand of the court came down on his arm and he was held back.

They led Virgil away.

-o-o-o-

“Would rather die.”

The words were barely there, whispered, slurred into the pillow, but they leapt up and tore at Scott’s heart.

“Virgil, no.” He levered himself up onto his elbow, wishing his brother wasn’t turned away from him, wasn’t hidden by the darkness.

Damnit! He sat up, reached over and flicked the light switch, flooding the room with its yellow glow.

“Aah, what the hell, Scott?” His brother lifted up his wrapped arm and rolled onto his back, wincing. “Whatcha do tha’ for?” He blinked repeatedly, tired eyes in a tired, bruised face.

“You can’t mean that.”

“Mean what?” The blinking had slowed, the eyes bleary.

“That you would rather die.”

“Die? Everybody dies.”

Scott closed his eyes. What was he thinking? Virgil was off his face, this was not the time for a serious discussion.

“Everybody dies.” It was an echo, a repeat of the words he had said a moment before. “Mom. Dad. You.”

A frown. “I’m not dead, Virgil.”

“Yes, you are.”

A chill crawled up his spine. “Virgil, what do you mean?”

But his brother’s eyes were closed, his brow wrinkled. “Can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Would rather die.” And his brother was drifting off to sleep.

He couldn’t help himself. He knew Virgil would deny everything come the light of day. He had to know. He reached out and touched his brother’s cheek. “Virgil, why? Why would you rather die?”

Brown eyes blearily opened and stared at him. “Can’t lose you. You’re the only one left.”

Scott blinked, attempting to decipher what Virgil meant. The only one what? “Virgil?”

“Please don’t leave me, Scott. I can’t-“ And there was an edge of panic in Virgil’s voice, his injured arm reaching out to grab him.

What the hell? “Virg, it’s okay. I’m not leaving.” Was this a direct line to his brother’s insecurities? “I’m here.” 

His brother’s fingers desperately attempted to get a grip on Scott’s pyjamas, but the cast wouldn’t let him make a proper fist. “Scott, please.”

He grabbed Virgil’s hand and held it tight, reaching over to run his fingers through the man’s hair. It took a moment, but finally Virgil sagged into the bed, a shaky breath escaping between his teeth.

Scott bit his lip, but continued to comb his brother’s hair, long enough for the man to eventually slip into an uneasy sleep.

His heart was thudding hard against the inside of his chest.

When Scott turned off the light, he lay in the dark staring up at the ceiling.

Sleep would not come.

-o-o-o-

“I am Cyril Packham, Mr Tracy, the attorney for the prosecution.”

Virgil nodded. Scott resisted the urge to snort. They knew the man’s name, his history, the fact he had two children, a wife, a girlfriend and some interesting commitments in Indonesia. Penelope was quite thorough.

Gordon sat behind his older brother this time as witness support. John had sent him to Virgil during the break to check on him and the aquanaut appeared to have chained himself to the man. The glare that was emanating off Gordon in the direction of the prosecutor was enough to light Packham’s hair on fire. Scott hoped he didn’t end up having to bail his second littlest brother out of jail today.

“Your attorney appears to believe that these events have pertinence to the assault that occurred the next day at the hospital. So, let’s review those events.”

Virgil didn’t react.

Gordon upped his temperature just slightly.

“Did you at any time during these events contact Mr Fischler and advise him of the situation.”

“No, I did not.”

“Then how could you possibly blame him for a situation he was not aware of?”

“I didn’t contact him. That wasn’t my place. Thunderbird Five, my brother, John Tracy, spoke to him repeatedly. He asked him to withdraw the collectors. He asked him to turn them off. He gave him a video feed of exactly what was happening above. The man could see what was happening from where he was standing! And he didn’t do a thing!”

“I did too!”

“Mr Fischler!”

“I told them to get the hell out of my sky. They were interfering. It was their fault the collectors did what they did, and then they destroyed them! It was their fault!”

“Mr Fischler, you are in contempt!”

“Yes, I am. In contempt of these self-righteous idiots. Everyone thinks they are so wonderful. Yet how many times have they screwed up an honest man’s work? How many times-“ But a hand landed on his shoulder and he shut up suddenly, the burly court official forcing him to sit down and handcuffing him to the railing in front of him.

The judge was glaring. “You will stay there and stay silent, Mr Fischler, for the remainder of these proceedings. Another word out of you and you will be escorted to a holding cell.”

Fischler opened his mouth.

The judge raised his gavel.

Fischler closed his mouth.

Maybe he did have some kind of sense in there after all. Scott rolled his shoulders attempting to relieve the tension.

“Mr Tracy, perhaps you can clarify your decision to destroy the collectors.”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you just lead them away?”

“Where? Wherever I led them, they would cause havoc and endanger lives.”

“Couldn’t you have drawn them away from the airliner?”

Virgil stared at him as if he was an idiot. “I did, and, despite everything, they crippled Thunderbird Two. Do you have any concept of exactly how hard that is to do?”

“No. Please explain.”

Scott bit his lip and Virgil clammed up. “No, that is not necessary.”

“Perhaps your crash had nothing to do with the collectors, perhaps your ship malfunctioned.”

Oh, shit.

And fire lit up amongst the bruises on his brother’s face. “Are you aware of my qualifications, Mr Peckem?”

“It’s Packham. And yes, you are a graduate of Denver College of Advanced Technology, are you not?”

“I am a fully qualified engineer, pilot and the mechanic of Thunderbird Two. I know EXACTLY what my ship is capable of. I know her inside and out. I know her very soul. She did not malfunction.”

“Then why did she crash?”

The arm with the cast wrapped around it shot out, pointing in the direction of Fischler. Scott didn’t miss his brother’s flinch at the movement, but he was obviously too angry to care. “Because that man had the audacity to combine energy collecting ware, a poorly designed AI matrix with no safety overrides or shutdown codes, and explosive massive-storage. It tore off one of her rear thrusters and disabled the other, sending electrical feedback through her system that took out VTOL along with other vital systems. If she had been any other ship, she could have exploded mid-air killing me and anyone in a several hundred meter radius.”

“How do you know so much about the solar collectors?”

Virgil froze. “What?!”

“The solar collectors are proprietary designs and their specifics are not available for public information.”

“Uh...”

“Are you trying to steal information from Fischler Industries, Mr Tracy?”

Virgil stared at him for a moment, wide eyed. Then he burst out laughing. “Ow, ow, oh god.” And he was clutching his rib cage, leaning against the edge of the witness box. “Please, please don’t make me laugh. It hurts so bad.”

“It wasn’t a joke, Mr Tracy.”

“Yes, it was.” His head came up and caught the man’s eyes. “What possible reason could I have to want to steal Fischler’s inventions? They are poorly designed and, in most cases, downright dangerous.”

“But how do you know so much detail about them, Mr Tracy?”

“Because I need to know what the hell is trying to kill me. The first time we encountered Fischler, he crippled Thunderbird Two above a hurricane. It was only luck and the skill of my brother, Gordon, that saved me that time. I don’t need to be taught twice. I’ve been as prepared as possible since.”

“But how do you obtain this information?”

“Objection!” Dunning shot to his feet. “Mr Tracy is not on trial here and this is not relevant to the case.”

‘I beg to differ. Mr Tracy is on trial here and the trustworthiness of International Rescue is key to this case.”

“A petty play on words, Packham.”

“Gentlemen.” The two lawyers continued to glare at each other. “Objection overruled.” The judge turned to Virgil. “Please answer the question, Mr Tracy.”

Scott swallowed. This could get them into some serious shit.

Virgil looked up, his face calm, his tone firm. “I will do what is necessary to save a life, Mr Peckem.”

“Including breaking the law.”

“Only if necessary.”

“Is that what you did with Mr Fischler’s technology?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it within the law to launch two hundred bombs into a flight zone?”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t really think a flying solar panel could take down a 400 tonne Thunderbird all by itself, do you? Each of those collectors had the storage capacity of a small nuclear bomb. Fortunately, when we encountered the flock, they were only partially charged, but still able to deliver a considerable payload upon ignition. They were attracted to specific types of energy sources, other than the sun. In fact, rather than an ecological energy solution, I would consider them to be more in the line of weapons development. You asked me earlier why I didn’t lead them away. Would you like me to lead them into your backyard?”

“Mr Tracy-“

“I learn what I need to know to save lives, Mr Peckem. That is all that you need to know.”

Virgil was covering for John. He was wording everything precisely, taking any and all credit or blame onto his shoulders while skimming between fact and fiction. It was a dangerous game. Scott bit his lip.

“So you refuse to answer the question.”

“I have answered as truthfully as I can.” A sharp indrawn breath.

“You look pale, Mr Tracy.”

“I have six broken ribs, Mr Peckem, would you like to count them?”

Dunning stood up. “Sir, Mr Packham is wasting time and gaining no further information, I ask that we move onto our next witness.”

The judge sat quietly for a moment, his eyes on Virgil, who by this point looked about ready to faint. For a moment, they skipped to Scott who was on the edge of his seat, then darted back to the two lawyers who remained glaring at each other.

“The witness is excused.”

Virgil sagged where he sat, Gordon hurried in to help as he struggled to his feet. To Scott’s surprise, Virgil actually leant on Gordon. Damn, the man must be hurting bad.

By the time the two of them reached Scott, Virgil was visibly trembling.

“Mr Tracy.” Five heads bobbed up. The judge didn’t quite roll his eyes. “Mr Virgil Tracy, you are excused if you need to leave the court.”

Standing beside Scott, half leaning on Gordon, his brother straightened as much as he could. “I-I need to stay, sir. I have some medication. I will be fine.”

The judge assessed him for a moment. “Very well. Proceed.”

Virgil lowered himself ever so slowly into the chair beside Scott. “Please, Virgil, you’ve done enough, go back to the hotel.” Gordon hovered until a court official directed him back to his seat in the public gallery.

“No, I’m staying here.” Virgil drew out a bottle of pills from his suit pocket. “This is more important.”

“Damnit, Virgil!”

“The court calls Scott Tracy to the stand.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil was fortunately still asleep when Scott finally cracked and climbed quietly out of bed at just after five in the morning. Grabbing his jogging gear, he took a moment to check on his brother. In the dim light he was breathing softly, once again lying on his less injured side, broken arm wrapped around his waist on top of the covers.

His hair was flopping into his eyes.

Scott sighed to himself, turned, grabbed his running shoes and slipped out of the room into the predawn. He got dressed in one of the bathrooms, and after a drink of water in the kitchen, set out on his morning run.

The sun was just beyond the horizon, reflected light the only light in the sky. He lost himself in the beat of his soles on the gravel of the path.

Thud, thud, thud.

A seabird screeched far above him.

A cool sea breeze caressed his heating skin, playing with his hair.

He tried not to think.

Tried not to think of the smug look on Fischler’s mug. The snarl of fury from Fischler’s brother. The frustration on Dunning’s face.

The pain on Virgil’s.

An exhausted huff of breath out of pace with his tread.

All because he let himself go for one moment and hit that stupid bastard.

How was it fair? He did so much for the world. Couldn’t it have forgiven him for this one mistake?

Apparently not.

It wasn’t the trial. It was what it put his brother through. And the stupid, stubborn bastard wouldn’t back down.

It was love, he knew that. He, in turn, would do anything for Virgil, or any of his brothers, but watching him push the limits...

Picking him off the floor of the corridor at three in the morning.

Damnit!

He stopped in the middle of the path overwhelmed by the urge to hit or kick something.

But then that is what had started all this.

He forced his legs to start moving again as the sun finally peeked over the horizon, catching his face in its warm embrace.

-o-o-o-

“Mr Tracy, could you please tell us what happened leading up to the incident in question.”

Scott shifted in the witness chair, now understanding why his brother had moved so often in the seat despite his injuries. “I was admitted to hospital due to my concussion-“

Mr Dunning interrupted him. “This was the concussion sustained while attempting to save your brother’s life?”

Scott’s gaze flicked to Virgil for a split second before he answered. “Yes, I received it in the crash.”

“You were knocked unconscious?”

“Yes.”

“But when your brothers found you, you and Virgil were quite a distance away from the craft weren’t you?”

Huh? How was this relevant? But Dunning’s eyes were boring into him, directing him to answer.

“Uh, Virgil pulled me out.”

“Your brother, Virgil, the one with the broken arm, broken ribs and skull fracture? Here sitting in this room?”

“Yes.”

“Objection! How is this relevant to the case?”

Dunning turned around to face Packham. “It is very relevant for us to consider the personalities involved in this case. Mr Scott Tracy was dragged from the downed plane by Mr Virgil Tracy. He was barely conscious, but despite Mr Virgil Tracy’s injuries, he still managed to drag his brother two hundred metres into the jungle.”

“I still don’t see the relevance.”

“That is obvious. These men are heroes, Packham. They make life and death decisions on a daily basis. What I am trying to demonstrate is the thought processes involved.”

“Virgil Tracy isn’t on trial here.”

The judge spoke up again. “Gentlemen, I believe the court has been very patient with these demonstrations, so please make your point Mr Dunning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sit down, Mr Packham.”

The lawyer returned to his assigned position, but not without a mutter.

“Mr Tracy, what happened at the hospital?”

“I was there for about twenty-four hours before I was well enough to get out of bed. Virgil and I were in separate rooms, so as soon as I could, I went to see him. I ran into Fischler in the hallway outside of Virgil’s room. He asked after my brother and made it very clear that he blamed him for the destruction of his collectors, and that he wanted to give Virgil ‘a piece of his mind’. Virgil was badly injured and it was the last thing he needed.” He swallowed. Here came the hard part. “So I stood in his way.”

“How did Mr Fischler react to you protecting your brother?”

“Not well. He became insulting.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Not good. I was worried about my brother, and quite frustrated by the man’s attitude. After all, we had just saved his life for the fourth time.” He frowned. Or was it the fifth? “We don’t expect gratitude as operatives of International Rescue, but a little respect wouldn’t hurt.”

“Respect?! I deserve respect, you charlatan!”

“Mr Fischler!” The judge roared at the man and he shrunk back into his seat.

Dunning ignored the byplay. “You saved Mr Fischler’s life as well?”

“That airliner was projected to land on top of the man if we hadn’t intervened.”

“Did Mr Fischler reach your brother?”

Scott looked down, knowing his brother was staring at him wide-eyed. “No, he did not.”

“Why?”

“I stopped him.”

“How?”

“I hit him.”

The room fell to silence.

“Mr Tracy.” The judges’ face was grave. “Did you want to change your plea?”

Mr Dunning held up his hand. “Before he answers, sir, I would like to ask one more question.”

The judge frowned at him, but with a sigh, nodded.

“Scott, do you know why Mr Fischler was in the hospital in the first place?”

Scott blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him. “I don’t know.” But as he thought about it, his suspicions grew and his eyes widened. “He wanted to see Virgil. He was there for the sole purpose of seeing Virgil.” His eyes swung to the man at the back of the room. “What did you want with my brother?”

The man actually snarled. “I wanted him to pay for what he did.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil was gone from Scott’s rooms when he returned, his bed tidily made.

Scott sighed and threw himself into the shower, washing more than the sweat from his body. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror and wiped fog from the glass. The man who peered back at him felt older than he looked, blue eyes worried and not a little stained with guilt.

Man, he needed to talk with his brother.

He scrubbed his face with a towel.

Breakfast was Virgil-less, but that was nothing unusual, the man slept in if he could. Gordon eyed Scott as he toasted a bagel, questions in those eyes so similar to his brother’s. Scott didn’t answer any of them.

Grandma wandered past at one point, dropping her hand onto his shoulder. “Is he okay?”

“As best he can be, I guess.”

She kissed his hair. “Let me know if he needs anything.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. Grandma was never one to stand back when any of her boys needed anything, particularly Virgil. Scott wasn’t above admitting that his Grandma had a soft spot for his artistic brother, knowing that it didn’t make her care any less for her other grandsons...and it got him out of the shopping on many an occasion. Virg and his grandmother were well suited to each other and got on very well.

Why was she caring for him via Scott?

“And don’t worry about the vase. I didn’t like it anyway.”

He blinked. “Okay.”

“What vase?” Alan waltzed into the room. “Bagels again? Aww, John’s not even dirtside.”

Most of the day passed without a peep from Virgil. Scott went through the papers he needed and filed what he had to with the lawyers. Dunning’s hologram still sported a frown, this time topped off by a glare. “Hey, this time it wasn’t my fault.”

“Sure, Scott.” And the lawyer had the audacity to sign off without saying goodbye.

The commander rolled his eyes and with a flick of a finger threw the man a sizeable bonus. The note scrawled beside it said, ‘For the grey hairs, Scott’.

A note came back immediately. ‘Kind of you, but really just keep you and your brothers safe, Jack’.

Scott sighed. I’m trying, Jack, really.

And then Scott discovered the report that had come with the note.

At about five o’clock in the afternoon, a stiff and half-dressed Virgil staggered into the comms room, heading towards the kitchen.

“Hey, Virg, how you feeling?” Gordon never was one to read the warning signs. Or he did and just chose to ignore them.

Scott looked up from the desk. Virgil didn’t really acknowledge either of them, just grunted and kept moving step by step. Obviously, he hadn’t taken his morning dose yet, coffee or heavy painkillers.

The trip down the stairs must have been fun.

“Virgil, for goodness sake, sit down. I’ll go get your coffee and your pills.” Gordon said it before Scott could open his mouth.

His brother’s shoulders sagged and he let the nearest wall take his weight. Gordon was up and beside him in a flash, such a contrast to the injured man. “C’mon, Virg, no need to be the hero today. Sit down and put your feet up.”

The glare Virgil sent his younger brother was half-hearted and almost fond. He looked down at the hand on his arm and capitulated. He was surprisingly docile as Gordon led him over to the sofa. The stairs down into the sunken lounge were conquered and Virgil lowered himself slowly onto the nearest couch.

“Now was that black with six sugars or white with seven?”

“Gordon.”

“Okay, okay, just going for that smile. I guess I should know better to attempt it before your twenty-sugar coffee.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Gords, please.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” And he went.

Leaving Virgil staring up at Scott.

The eldest brother lifted his chin a little. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. I still hate you.”

“Again with the hate, Virg, really?”

“So, did you enjoy listening to me waffle about fairies and pixies? Or did I sing the entirety of Gilbert and Sullivan this time?”

“None of the above.” Scott sighed. He was doing that a lot lately. “Do you really think I care what you do when under the influence of necessary medication, Virgil? You were in pain. something you put yourself through for me, incidentally. Do you really think I would find it funny?”

Virgil looked away. “Gordon would.”

“No, he wouldn’t, and you know it.” Scott stood up and walked around the desk, stepping down into the sunken lounge to take a seat opposite his brother. “You have no reason to be embarrassed at all.”

“Easy for you to say, all you ever do is fall asleep.”

“Virgil.”

“What?”

Gordon bounded up the stairs, coffee in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. He had a water bottle under one arm. “Here you go, oh great wounded hero.”

“Shut up, Gordon.” The coffee floated into the man’s hand like magic and was immediately being poured into his face, no doubt as black and as sugarless as it could be. “Oh, god, thank you.” The moan was almost obscene. But then Virgil’s relationship with coffee was more powerful than anything lust could provide. “Perfect.” His eyes were closed and there was an actual half-smile on the man’s face. Scott rolled his eyes towards Gordon who was sporting a goofy grin.

“Don’t forget your pills.”

“Coffee first.”

“The two of you may need to get a room.” A smirk. “And I’m not referring to Scott in this relationship.”

“Thank you, Gordon. Now leave me and my coffee in peace.”

“Yesssh, massster.”

“Oh, god.”

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” He eyed Scott, and for just a moment all humour vanished from his expression. He frowned, his eyes darting in Virgil’s direction. Scott acknowledged him with a twist of his lips. His brother turned and yelled towards the stairs. “Hey, Alan, I’m hungry, wanna come with me and Grandma to the mainland for some Italian?”

There was a resounding ‘yes!’ from the lower floor as Gordon waltzed out.

Virgil didn’t appear to have noticed, still worshipping his coffee.

“Aren’t you going to go with them?” Those brown eyes were questioning him. Obviously, Virgil was more aware than he appeared.

“No, they’ll bring back takeaway. Brains is still in his lab and needs to surface sometime.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What did you want to talk about without the others around?”

Scott stared at him. “Take your medication, Virgil.”

The coffee cup was lowered to the side table quietly.

The pills were ignored.

“What’s going on, Scott?”

-o-o-o-

“Mr Tracy, you have changed your plea to guilty.”

Scott stood up and faced the judge. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you believe that you are guilty of assaulting Mr Langstrom Fischler?” The same Fischler who was now holed up in the building’s lock up.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you believe you deserve punishment?”

In the corner of his eye, Jack Dunning shot to his feet, but he was unable to say anything procedurally.

Scott swallowed, but held his perfect military stance. “No, sir.”

“Why?”

He drew in a breath. “What I did was wrong, sir. It was a moment of emotional release that I should not have allowed myself. However, no punishment you could give me would equate to what punishment today has been.”

“Explain.”

He couldn’t help but glance in Virgil’s direction. His brother’s eyes were wide. “I have had to watch my brother suffer through his injuries today to support me. I wish no more than to protect him and never have I failed so badly. Honestly, sir, you could not do worse.”

The judge stared at him.

“I could take that as a dare, young man.” Scott’s future hung in the balance. “But I agree.” His stomach dropped. “It was a stressful situation, you were injured and little damage was done, and, I say to this court, the world was possibly improved.” There was a gasp from the back of the room.

“Mr Scott Tracy, you are ordered to pay any medical bills associated with Mr Fischler’s nose bleed and his court costs.”

There was silence.

“This case is closed.” The gavel dropped.

-o-o-o-

“They have discovered that Fischler was indeed building weapons. The GDF have moved in on several depots and seized various weapons. Langstrom and Perce are imprisoned, however his sister is missing. Apparently, she was the mastermind of it all.” Scott shrugged. “Which is not hard to believe considering the lack of mind in the rest of the family.”

“Missing? You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m afraid not. I’m sorry.” He stood and hurried over to sit beside Virgil. “You don’t need to worry. Kayo is out there already. Penny’s on it. They will find her.”

Virgil rubbed his face. “I’m not worried, Scott. I’m just tired.”

Scott sat back a little. “Understandable. Take your medication.”

“Yes, Mom.” But Virgil didn’t move. “This doesn’t affect our operations, you know.”

Scott straightened. “It should.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Virgil-“

“Scott, no one is going to die because of those bastards, you hear me?” And Virgil was in his face.

“No-one.”

-o-o-o-

The Tracys left the courthouse amongst another flock of holocams and rude questions. There was no arrowhead this time, simply a huddle of brothers around Virgil hunched in the middle. A car was ordered to the front door and Kayo stormed through the press wielding her hostile expression like a weapon.

Scott helped Virgil into the car, wincing himself at the man’s pained gasps. He set him up between himself and Gordon. John, Alan and Kayo sat opposite. By the time the car started moving, Virgil was already falling against Scott’s shoulder, taking the pressure off his injured right side.

With Scott free to go, it was decided that they would pick up their belongings and head home immediately. Scott stayed in the car with Virgil while John supervised their rooms and luggage. Fifteen to twenty minutes after arriving at the hotel, they were packed and heading to the airport and Tracy Two.

Virgil was asleep on Scott’s shoulder.

Three blocks out from the airport, a car ran a red light and barrelled into the front fender of the limo, throwing it into oncoming traffic.

-o-o-o-

“Get out of the car.”

Scott blinked, momentarily confused. What?

“I said get out of the car!”

And the screaming registered. There were people screaming. His head kicked into gear.

Emergency. Respond.

A gun was stuck through the window pointing at him. He frowned. No, pointing at Virgil.

“I said, get out of the damned car!”

His brother was moving slowly, looking as dazed as Scott felt. Scott stepped in front of him, pushing the door open and climbing out first. He shut it behind him and blocked its access, preventing his brother from emerging. The limo lay in a mess of stalled traffic, its front end mangled by a sedan.

The man holding the gun was Perce Fischler, Langstrom Fischler’s brother.

“What do you want?”

“I want your brother.” It was snarled and spat.

“Why?”

“Because of what he has done.”

“What has he done?”

“He has ruined everything.” The man shot crazed eyes at Scott. “You’ve ruined everything.” The gun rose.

And was suddenly airborne, a blur of blue grey IR uniform in its place. There was a yelp and Kayo had him on the ground, her knee in his back. She whispered in his ear. “You think my brothers caused trouble, you have no idea what I could do to you.” A couple of cable ties disabled the man and Kayo stood over him, obviously restraining herself from physically injuring him further.

Brothers? And Scott was flinging open the car door. Virgil collapsed into his arms yelling at him. John was clambering over the hood of the car, Gordon was yelling for assistance for the driver, and suddenly Alan was beside Kayo asking her if she was alright.

“Scott, are you okay?” Virgil was struggling to stand up.

“I think I hit my head again.”

“Damn. C’mere.” And Virgil was reaching for him. There were sirens, more yelling, more questions. He was so damned tired of all of it.

Virgil was yelling at someone.

He just wanted to go home.

Things became clearer as time passed. By the time Alan took the controls of Tracy Two, apparently after Virgil had yelled at enough people, reality was beginning to reassert itself.

“Is everyone okay?”

“Oh, the dazed prince awakes.”

“Shut up, Gordon.” Virgil reached over and touched his arm. “Everyone is fine. You were the only injury, bar a few bruises for the driver. How are you feeling?”

Scott blinked. “Better. Things were a little fuzzy for a bit there.”

“It’s only a mild concussion. I figured you would want to make it home tonight.”

“You figured correctly.” The plane turned and began its descent.

“Tracy Airways asks you to fasten your seatbelts for landing.” Alan’s voice was full of forced cheerfulness.

-o-o-o-

There was silence in the room for several moments.

“Are you going to take your medication?”

“Are you going to stop nagging me?”

“Only if you take your medication.”

“Fine.” Virgil poured a couple of pills into his palm and threw them into his mouth, downing them with a gulp of water. “There, done. Happy?”

“I’ll be happy when you can move without flinching.”

Virgil sighed. “I’m okay, Scott.”

“No, you’re not. Take your damned medication and keep me sane, please.”

His brother didn’t respond, but there was a touch of guilt in his eyes.

Scott’s shoulders slumped. “Hell of a day yesterday.”

Brown eyes caught his. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It was necessary.”

“No, it was stupid. If I hadn’t hit the idiot, you could have stayed in bed for the day.”

“If you hadn’t hit the idiot, he wouldn’t have gotten what was coming to him.”

Scott shrugged. “It’s just that you had to pay the price.” He looked up and caught Virgil’s eyes. “I am so sorry.”

His brother looked away a moment. “I’d do far more if necessary, Scott, you know that. What you said to the judge...I do appreciate it.” He paused. “Just one thing. Perhaps think before you act a little more in the future?” Quietly. “This isn’t the first time.”

Scott swallowed. “I know.”

Silence fell again.

“Virgil.”

His brother looked up at him in query, his brow furrowing. “Yes?”

“You said some things last night.”

“Oh, goddamnit! I knew it! Did I propose? Disclose my deepest fears? What the hell did I say this time?”

Scott swallowed. “More the second of the two.”

A blink. “I what?”

“You appeared to be afraid of losing me.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not going anywhere, you know.”

Virgil didn’t answer.

“And if I did, you would make a brilliant commander of International Rescue.”

His brother stood up with a groan and turned away. “Not going to happen.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Virg-“

“No, Scott. I know the drugs give all and sundry access to both my soul and my stupidity, but that doesn’t mean I have to bare it willingly.” He slowly made his way up the steps out of the lounge.

Scott shot to his feet and followed, placing his hand on his brother’s uninjured arm. “Please, Virgil, if not to me, talk to someone.”

The injured man turned awkwardly to face him. “What the hell did I say to you?” He frowned. “You’re scared.”

“I’m worried.”

Virgil took a step towards him. “No, you’re scared, Scott. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I’m worried about you. Promise me you will talk to someone.”

“I will. You know I do.” And he did know. Virgil treated his mental health seriously, just like he did the rest of his body. Perhaps yesterday was just the result of circumstances.

Regardless, Scott gently wrapped his arms around his brother and embraced him. “Look after yourself.” He tightened his arms just slightly. “And thank you so much for being my brother.”

Virgil returned the hug awkwardly. “Scott, are you okay?”

Scott dropped his forehead onto Virgil’s shoulder, “Couldn’t be better.”

-o-o-o-

FIN.


End file.
